


Pancakes

by Aria Silverberg (faint_of_hearts)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1234579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faint_of_hearts/pseuds/Aria%20Silverberg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim wasn't obsessed with Mary Morstan; Mary was not supposed to be thinking about Jim Moriarty .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Sherlock Holmes Kink Meme for someone looking for Moriarty/Mary. A common theme with me is I start something and then I never finish. I had an epic fic planned out for Mary/Moriarty. But dropped the idea when I got super busy with training for a 10k and grad school stuff.
> 
> Cross posted on FF.net under a different pseud.

Jim wasn't obsessed with Mary Morstan. Her information was passed to him by Moran when she became involved with Sherlock's pet doctor. She played the role of Miss Sunshine on a failing daytime children's show and went to the consulting detective to find her missing father. (Something Moriarty had no hand in whatsoever) It seemed everyone was shocked by the rapid progression of the relationship from client to lovers to fiancées.

Jim watched a few episodes, only for reconnaissance. It wasn't his fault that he found himself smiling with her as she did finger painting or that he was bored enough to make a collection of felt farm animal finger puppets. She was rather plain and ordinary to look at. Her blonde hair was cut to just above her shoulders. Her blue eyes shone vibrantly. When she smiled on the air, her dimples could rival Sherlock's. Jim thought that she was maybe just a little too young for the doctor, (not that he was jealous or anything.)

****

He wasn't actively stalking Mary Morstan. It was just a coincidence that they wound up in the same pub together. So his mates invited him out to the pub for a round or two and Mary just happened to be there with a few friends. It wasn't like he instantly recognized her. Jim had to look twice to make sure it was Mary.

While he waited for his friends to show up, he snagged a table closer to the girls. They sounded like they had too much to drink, and Mary's laughter rang out through the pub. Jim wasn't sure why, but it was gorgeous to his ears. She looked even better in person than she did on the telly. (And that was even after watching her pretending to be a cat)

"Oh he didn't, Mary. Really? "

"I swear to god, Liz." The bubbly blonde held her right hand up, taking a sip from the pint glass her left was holding. "Mary, do you know your fiancé has been with numerous lovers spanning three continents?" Mary deepens her voice and rolls her eyes, then she giggles again. Jim can't help it and giggles with her. It was a spot on impersonation of Sherlock.

Jim really wasn't planning on getting close to Mary Morstan. It was enough to read about her on John's blog, and watch her dress up to entertain children. Jim and his mates, her and her girls, merged together and took over a corner of the pub. She is tipsy and is leaning into Jim. She's all smiles and bright eyes and when she talks to Jim its like she's telling him her deepest secrets.

"He's a bloody doctor! He should know better, but no, it’s like he declared jihad against my bits."

"And the truth of it is I hate children. I wanted to be an actress, like a serious actress, like a dramatic Shakespearian heroine."

"I absolutely love Nutella and banana pancakes. And John, he can't cook for anything, and all I want are Nutella and banana pancakes." She's saying the most random, ridiculous things in a low voice that only they can hear.

"We should leave and go get some pancakes. I know a great place, open all night." Jim suggests, and starts mentally scolding himself.

He's not supposed to be alone with Mary Morstan at 2 a.m. leaving one of those all night diners. She's sobered up since devouring a stack of chocolate chip pancakes smothered in maple syrup, but she's still leaning against Jim, their arms twined together.

She turned to face him, smiling at him and Jim felt the world falling out beneath them. Before any protests could be raised, her face tilted up nearly touching Jim's. Any arguments he had froze in his throat. His eyes fluttered, almost closing, when she brought a hand up to gently stroke the side of his face.

Jim brought his lips to hers, starting the exchange of lazy kisses that grew into something more intense, as she swiped her tongue over his lips. Mary's hands tightened around him, pulling Jim closer, before running down the line of his hip to cup his ass.

"Christ." She stopped, uncertain. "What am I doing?" Mary rested her head against Jim's shoulder.

Jim shifted letting his lips brush the upper edge of her ear, "You know exactly what you are doing. You my dear are starved for attention. Want to go back to my flat? I could do things to you that..."

"No! That's a bad idea. I got to get home. Now." She pushed away.

He called a cab for her, and they shared a cigarette in silence while waiting for it. As it pulled up to the curb, Mary started to walk toward it. Jim caught her wrist, and saw fear flash across her eyes. He pressed a soft kiss against her pulse point. "Night, my dear."

*****

She wasn't supposed to be thinking about Jim Moriarty and his soft voice with the Irish lilt. She has the strangest feeling that she recognizes his name from somewhere but she can't place it and the only help that he offered was his business card. A plain ivory card with bold, block lettering.

And its two days later and she can still taste the coffee and strawberry jam from his mouth. She can remember how his breath hitched as he breathed into her ear "I could do things that..." No, no, no, no, she stripped out of her pajamas and made the shower as cold as she could stand it. For all the good it did, the water did not rinse the memories down the drain.

She feels like crawling out of her skin. She blames the text messages that come later, even though Mary is certain she never gave him her mobile number.

_Would you have come home with me if I was a member of the P.R.A.? xoxo_

She doesn't answer and does her best to forget about the message. It’s not until she's bored hours later, with Indian takeway on her coffee table and she's snuggled up in a warm armful of beige jumper. John was able to get away from Sherlock and decided to make good on his promise to watch Thunderball with her. The movie's not even half-way finished and he's 's Bond is on some scuba diving adventure with the latest Bond girl. Just how was John able to talk Sherlock into watching several of these movies in one night?

Curiosity gets the better of her and she shifts and pulls her mobile out of her back jeans pocket.

**what in the world is the pra?**

_Why my dear you haven't heard of the Pancake Republican Army? Defenders against the terrorism caused by French toast. xoxo_

She bites her lip to keep her giggles restrained. She types in a heady rush.

**you're not right**

_we're all a little insane. xoxo_

She's still thinking of something to text back when her phone beeps again.

_If you were here right now I would take a knife and cut away all your clothes. xoxo_

Mary stares at the phone and the messages continue

_Would you let me bind your arms and legs with silk scarves? I think you would. xoxo_

**if i said yes i don't think you would know what to do with me**

She hits send before she changes her mind. Jim wants her and she hates herself just a little bit for wanting him back.

20 messages later Mary is hot and bothered and still snuggled in an armful of beige sweater. John snores softly and its causes another wave of guilt about how wrong sexting some stranger she snogged two days earlier really is. She grips her phone and slams it on the coffee table. The noise causes John to startle awake. He apologizes for falling asleep during the movie and points at her phone.

"Was it Sherlock? I told him not to message you."

"No," and she settles back into John. Kind, wonderful, heroic, honest, John. It was only a few kisses and some raunchy text messages. Nothing physical. But still she crawls on John's lap and begins kissing him, aggressively, as if his touches and lips can absolve her.

He's chuckling against her, "What brought this on?"

"I need," Mary cuts herself off and starts with the desperate kisses again and frustrated hands pulling at the bulky jumper. What she needs is for him to shut up, and be a blank slate, what she needs is to have Jim Moriarty fucked out of her system.

They're fumbling to her bedroom like a pair of wild teenagers. The beige jumper goes first followed by Mary's blouse, then their jeans. She leaves the red lacy bra on, and wonders if John will even notice. She barely knows Jim, but he would notice.

Mary really should not be thinking of Jim Moriarty while her fiancé shags her.

_I want to kiss you on your neck, on your breasts, on your thighs, everywhere that he's touched. xoxo_

John's grip on her hips tightened almost painfully as he fought to keep control of his agonizingly careful thrusts. Her whole body was alight and waiting as the sweet pressure between her legs built almost intolerably.

_I want to mark you with my teeth. I can hear you gasp right now as I nip and tease my way down your collarbone. xoxo_

Her eyes were shut tight but she could feel him smiling down at her. His fingers brushed lightly over her face, while he teased and slowed his thrusts. Each touch, each stroke, left her gasping and writhing underneath him.

_I'll feel your muscles tighten and stop short. I won't touch you again until you beg for me and mean it. xoxo_

Mary's nails dug into John's back hard enough to draw blood. She was close and her skin was crawling with that ache for release. John yelled out above her, shoving himself even harder inside. She whimpered with frustration as his head fell to rest on her shoulders. The movements of his hips finally slowed then ceased. John's deep breaths tickled her throat.

She really shouldn't be thinking about her phone with the text messages while John curls an arm around her and settles into a peaceful sleep. She's restless and can't get comfortable so she slips out of the bed and pulls on John's bulky jumper. She tiptoes out into her flat's living area and sees the offending criminal cell phone being innocent on the coffee table. Temptation waits and she reads the lonely message Jim sent to her.

_We'll share a shower after we're done. Then both of us would get into my bed and we would laugh and talk and sleep the day away. You'll tell me your secrets and I would share mine. It would be perfect. I don't think I would be able to bear watching you leave. xoxo_

The imprints of maple syrup, strawberry jam and bitter coffee return to her taste buds. His fine cologne's scent is embedded in her nose. She's trying to outrun this desire, and doesn't want to at the same time. She's sitting on her sofa and it feels like she's standing at the top of a cliff. She keeps telling herself that she barely knows him. The risk? The risk is losing it all and hurting John and doesn't John really deserve better than this? The phone is heavy in her hands and the glow from the touch screen is casting bluish highlights on her face. She types.

**I want you, and maybe that's enough for now.**


End file.
